February

Everyone in the city is hiding and the streets are almost completely empty.

Clint doesn't get how the conference is supposed to happen, when it seems almost impossible to imagine someone using the public transportation to commute, or a car's engine start.

Possibly he is exaggerating, but not very much.

'JARVIS, temperature?'

'-4 degrees Fahrenheit, Mister Barton,' the A.I. replies promptly. '11 more than the lowest recorded temperature in New York City.'

'Fuck,' Clint swears, shivering inwardly. Maybe Natasha is used to extreme cold, since she spent lots of her life in a place where -4 degrees is a normal occurrence, but Clint hates this. He's not even sure he has appropriate clothes. 'I don't waaant to go outside,' Clint drawls loudly, staring at all the snow and shivering again. He didn't want to get out of bed either, but Natasha came in and helped him with that.

It's just one of those days.

'Where is your Russian spirit?' Tony's voice asks from behind, making Clint jump. Tony laughs. 'You know that you have to get outside for approximately… two minutes? To get in the car and get out of the car?' he adds, walking up to stand next to Clint. He's wearing one of those incredibly smart and snug designer suits.

'One op in Alaska too much and you are scarred for life, man,' Clint explains, trying not to think about those two weeks. Seriously. Almost the worst two weeks ever.

'Okay, doesn't sound too good,' Tony agrees and takes a step away from Clint, then looks at him head to toe and makes an approving face. 'You are looking smart, man. Almost like me.'

'Gee, thanks for the compliment –' Clint starts, but Tony cuts in, because that's what Tony always does.

'You'd look better in purple.'

'I will never forgive Nat for telling you that story,' Clint growls, looking down at his clothes: it is the suit he always used for ops where he pretends he is a higher society boy and not a circus freak.

'Wait,' Tony tells him and disappears. That is so Tony, too. Clint just rolls his eyes.

He comes back maybe three minutes later and presents Clint a thin tie in perfectly purple color from Hawkeye's best marksman in when worldtimes. And it's glistening.

'No, please, can't you just stop –' Clint starts again, but Tony doesn't listen, he just walks up to Clint and takes off the black tie, replacing it with the purple one, and ties it efficiently in a perfect knot. Then he takes a few steps away, cocks his head and stares at Clint for a long moment before nodding approvingly.

'You look much better now,' he tells Clint.

Well.

Maybe he should let it be, if Tony Stark himself tells him he looks great. Just this one time. And he can perfectly ignore the stupid weird feeling in his gut when Tony smiles at him like – like that.

Clint looks at Tony again, raising one eyebrow when he meets the man's gaze, then turns around to see if the weather has suddenly changed and turned into sub-tropical. Of course it hasn't, it's snowing so much that Clint has no choice but to call it a blizzard in his head, even if that word he'd rather not use. Ever.

'So, you ready? Mentally prepared?' Tony asks, still standing in the same place, with this small smirk.

'Never,' Clint replies grimly, turns around and walks out of the room. Tony follows. 'Also, why do we have to have a press conference in the Empire State Building? Aren't there any more… humane places around? With less gold? Hell, why can't he have it here in Stark Tower? You've got like a whole floor of conference rooms, and I swear I saw a Ming vase in one of them, almost as good as –'

'Hell, Hawkeye,' Tony cuts in naturally. 'You really don't want to go. Like, really.'

'Don't you ever have those days when you don't want to get out of your bed no fucking matter what? And you have to leave, for a bullshit press conference no less –'

'I don't think I actually get to be in my bed often enough to experience something like that, baby, but I could say the same about that couch in my workshop – oh. You don't know which one. You have never been there, have you?'

'You don't let anyone but Bruce and Rhodey go down there,' Clint reminds Tony as they walk into the kitchen. Clint grabs a bottle of water and drinks half of it in one go. Tony stares at him suspiciously.

'Will you be less annoyed with everything if I promised you I'd give you a tour when we come back?'

'Wow, I've been living here for half a year and now you're offering me such an honor –'

'Don't push it, cupcake,' Tony warns him, already by the coffee maker, preparing himself an espresso. They still have full ten minutes before they have to leave.

'Okay, okay,' Clint agrees tiredly. 'I'd like that. I mean, seeing your workshop. It's like an urban legend around here. But it's not going to change my attitude towards this crazy winter at all. I swear, I am going to move to central Africa at some point, you know, with no snow ever, and I will live and die in hope that the local gangs won't remember me from all the ops we've had there…'

'We should go to Malibu for a few days,' Tony says pensively and then drinks his coffee in two seconds. 'Sun. Sun, even in February.'

'Sure. Yes. Gladly. You are my favorite, Tony,' Clint sing-songs, grinning. 'We go?'

'Yup,' Tony agrees and disappears again. When he comes back, he is wearing a fur coat. Clint rubs his eyes in disbelief and stifles laughter. Tony is unbelievable. But if there's one man in the world who can pull off a fur coat looking so fucking sexy, it is Tony Stark.


A/N: Thank your for all the faves and follows! I am glad you are enjoying this. Please let me know how you liked this piece :)